A Tent Situation
by Kienova
Summary: What if Angela and Timothy's tent hadn't collapsed in 5.06?


"I could sing a chorus of Summer Holiday if you'd like me to!" Patrick smirked, leaning in to place a kiss on his wife's waiting mouth. She smiled against him, tilting her head so that she could kiss him properly, letting her tongue slip along the seam of his lips before it greeted his. She shivered slightly, a drop of rain sliding down from his fringe until it hit her nose as his hand moved to make sure the remaining tea cup was safely out of their way.

"Are you still thinking about the clinic?" Shelagh whispered, moving along his jaw, dropping kisses as she went until she sucked the skin just behind his ear, nuzzling against his hair. He couldn't help but want to rile her up, knowing that she had been so intent on getting him to forget about work for a few days. And she had succeeded – even if he had yet to admit it. He had been wondering if they would be able to steal a few moments to themselves all day, not used to seeing her wearing slacks and having enjoyed the change in wardrobe quite extensively. He had caught himself staring at her backside more than once since they had been getting ready for the trip that morning, taking great care to make sure he didn't walk over to her and ravish her on the spot, regardless of who would be able to see them.

"Those ulcers are quite... troublesome," he managed, trying to bite back the laugh that threatened to escape him at the slight growl that came from his wife, her hand moving until it could slide beneath the edge of his sleeping-bag.

"How about now Dearest?" she queried, fingers sliding down his belly until they rested at the button of his shorts. They hadn't been intimate in what felt like eons, the busy schedule at the clinic and the surgery taking up the majority of their time during the day, the children and research regarding the physical malformations of children in the parish occupying their time at home. He hadn't realised how much his body missed that of the tiny woman next to him until weeks of pent-up arousal started to simmer beneath the surface of his skin.

"Less troublesome," he answered, fumbling blindly until he managed to grab the switch of the lantern, flicking it off and plunging the tent in the darkness. "Can't have the children see," he muttered as an explanation, glad for the pounding rain which blocked out his words. She made a sound of agreement against his neck, tiny fingers running up and down, causing his arousal to spike even higher. He wasn't sure why, but there was something erotic about the thought of making love in a tent in the middle of nowhere. Their lovemaking was usually confined to their bedroom, save for their honeymoon or that one eventful morning in the lavatory when Angela had still been sleeping in their room and they had become ravenous for one another, neither one wanting to endure waking up the baby and interrupting their time together.

"Patrick, what if they –" she startled, her fingers tensing at the thought that Timothy or Angela could witness their parents' actions.

"Shh," he scolded gently. "Now you're thinking too much. Relax. We're on holiday." He said the words with conviction, batting her hand away so that he could turn the tables on her, moving underneath the blankets until he was stroking her thigh, shocked when he found naked skin instead of the fabric of her trousers.

"They were damp," she said in explanation, giggling at his hungry gaze before he ducked in for another kiss, allowing himself the satisfaction of having her nearly melt beneath the assault, letting him lower her down until they were both lying next to one another. As their tongues danced he let his hand slide up between her legs, feeling the heat of her even through the fabric of her knickers before moving his hand up, knuckles skimming across her skin until he was able to palm at her breast. Shelagh let out a sigh into his mouth, her back arching slightly at the feeling of her husband's fingers moving against her, caressing the soft skin before he tugged at a nipple, causing it to harden instantly. He didn't remain there long, lighting sparks within her before he moved his palm back down, his fingers sliding beneath the material of her knickers when they reached the waistband. He let his fingers glide over her pubic bone for a moment, teasing, before he slipped them lower, brushing over her clit.

Patrick could sense her vague hesitation, part of her constantly on guard for any noise from the children's tent, worried that something would go wrong or that they would come barging in. Regardless of her own worries, he felt Shelagh part her legs slightly, biting back a moan as he positioned his hand in a way that didn't hurt his wrist, his digits stroking over her centre, dipping into the heat there. He groaned his approval into her neck, glad of how wet she already was as he pushed one, and then two, fingers inside her, his thumb brushing circles over her clit as he slowly moved his hand. He found the spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back in her head quickly, stroking against it, making her gasp into the quickly heating air of the tent. She moaned, trying to cross her legs, not trusting that she would be able to keep her volume down should he continue in that particular vein of action. He grinned, dropping a kiss on her shoulder as he moved his hand back, pulling his fingers from her until he was tracing over her instead, enjoying her laboured breathing and the flush he knew was covering her face and neck. She couldn't help but whimper at the loss, blood throbbing at her centre, her body desperately seeking something to clench against, begging for release in each contraction of muscle.

She was so wound up in her own arousal, her body crying for friction, that it took a moment for her to realise that he rolled away slightly and was unzipping their sleeping bags, nudging his way into hers after pushing his trousers and pants down, releasing his erection. She couldn't help but wrap her fingers around him, giving a few quick strokes until he leaned in, muttering a curse against her neck, hips hitching forward into her grip and the exquisite torture she was bringing him. He let her teasing go on for a few more moments before he batted her hand away, taking the hem of her knickers in hand as he touched her thigh before dragging them down her legs, the fabric disappearing into the abyss of the sleeping bag as soon as she kicked them off. He took her hip in his hand then, rolling her onto her side until they were facing one another, crowding close to her as he dragged his palm up and down her thigh, encouraging her to lift her leg until it was thrown over him, their bodies spooned together. Shelagh could feel herself flush with renewed arousal at the feeling of him pressed against her thigh.

"We'll need to be quite my Love," Patrick breathed, rubbing his nose against hers as his hand slipped between their bodies, guiding his erection towards the heat he could feel from his wife, dragging it through the wetness there. She murmured an agreement, shifting her leg slightly higher against his ribs as he slowly pushed just the head of his cock inside her. He kissed her roughly as he inched forward, pushing deeper and deeper into her, her muscles already fiercely gripping at him.

"Oh God," Shelagh panted, burying her face in his neck, breath panging against his skin.

"Perfect," he answered, cheeky grin on his face as he slowly started to rock his hips. They hadn't made love like this in ages and he had forgotten how much he enjoyed it. Able to watch the emotions play out on her face without needing to make sure he didn't crush her in a desperate attempt to rut himself to completion. As he moved he couldn't help but be glad for the rain still pelting down on the tent, the sound covering the slick noises their bodies were making as he started to increase the pace, feeling Shelagh's hand digging into the material of his shirt over his shoulder.

Her body was so tense that he felt as if she were trying to keep him inside her forever, her walls constricting and fluttering around him with each thrust. He could feel himself throbbing in response, trying to resist the urge to just grab her hips until he could ram inside her until he found release. He only lasted a few moments before his resolve broke, Shelagh's soft whimpers setting his blood to boil as she rolled her hips against him, trying to make him go faster. Unable to resist, he started thrusting into her, deeply, biting the fabric of her sweater to silence the grunts that were building in his throat as he buried himself to the hilt with each push of his hips.

Patrick felt the familiar tug from his groin before he knew it, unable to stop his movements. Every time he moved he could hear the rustling of the sleeping bags, his wife's increased respiration and the hitching noises she couldn't control as he drove her higher and higher, but he couldn't stop; the feeling of her rocking against him was too much. He groaned, burying his nose in her hair as he let out dirty, quiet curse, his body crashing into release. Shelagh let out a gasp in reply, her head falling back slightly as the heat of his breath against her neck sent her into completion, her body shuddering and contracting around him. Patrick forced his eyes open, taking in the sight of her in the weak light, relishing in how gorgeous she looked as she pulsed with orgasm. He let his body hitch against hers a few more times until he finished, both of them breathing hard, the tent silent save for the pattering of the rain.

"Still thinking about the clinic?" she asked, breathless.

"What clinic?" Patrick responded, loving the giggle she let out at his words, cuddling as close to him as possible after he pulled himself from her body, zipping them both into her sleeping bag as he peppered kissed to her hair.

"Mm, good answer," Shelagh yawned, the exhaustion of the day catching up with her and pulling her into slumber almost instantly, the thudding of her husband's heartbeat lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

When they woke up the next morning to the sound of their tent being ripped open, both were immensely glad that it was Angela and not Timothy, as she was much easier to distract while they tried to get dressed and hide what they had been doing the night before.


End file.
